February 6th_

Days.

Months.

Years.

Seemed to stop for Mirae a very long time ago. Everything felt nothing like sandpaper over thick skin, like getting cat bites and claw marks but you feel absolutely nothing. What could possibly have made her senses disappear? Mirae is still finding the answer herself. It seems like to be nowhere near her that made her almost gave up hope. Living life like a living corpse is not as easy as anyone would ever think but before turning that way she had been denying herself that she had depression—that she no longer had the spirit to go on, to mend the broken and complete the puzzle—she was denying all THAT.

Hours spent just laying around, eat when she had the desire to, drink when she wanted to, use the bathroom when she had to. It was just a new routine she would develop a few weeks ago due to the severe heartbreak she would always feel around actual living human beings. What was life before? It was rainbow and unicorn but she couldn’t remember how to live that same life again. She’s stuck here. In her room after she had made the decision to stop continuing her studies. She had so much plan for her life, for others. But the mere thought of depression made her cringe so much that it never fails to send her goosebumps, halting her every step prearranged for a better future.

However, unluckily she had been dealing with depression stuff for over three years and one month. What could possibly happen now? She would always ask herself the moment she realized it’s been too long, too fast yet so slowly eating her soul. Her parents had ignored her condition after her countless attempts of asking for a doctor, her long time best friend (finally) ignored her like she’s nothing, her first love that had professed to her tree years ago continue his studies and looked very much clueless of her condition (she won’t tell because until now she doesn’t believe that he cares), and her new friend which she hates to admit that she loves so much due to what happened with her ex-best friend (but she still admit it to her) is so far away she couldn’t reach her whenever she wanted to. She had lost everything except God. She loves God so much that she refused to kill herself. And hate to admit that she loves all the people around her although they don’t give a about her and don’t understand her condition at all.

Whenever she found anyone talked about her (behind her back especially) she would felt her heart broke to million pieces even though she doesn’t know what they were talking about. Maybe she knows—maybe she assumed that they had been talking about her condition but they wouldn’t want to do anything about it—to help her find the answers. Because apparently, life hasn’t been on her side lately since she would been step on and judged from the very start even before she had the chance to explain herself. People are so cruel she wants to vomit at them. Guess she’s one of the people now.

Eventually, Mirae found herself looking into the mirror finding any flaws that might withdraw people from her—she found sagging panda eyes, straight-line lips and—nothing. What she had now only her—she still has her pieces—her soul that is, confined in this dead meat for torturous motives that she believed only to be exist in this very world called—Earth. She would want to die sooner but her life has been hanging off the tight rope—unable to release the essence from its imprisonment. Dead is all she thinks about almost every day—albeit happiness did come and make her forget about it for just one moment and then gone. She’s back to colourless life, instant noodles when the good days arrived and her comforter. The only comfort she had for a very long time.

And somehow—or something had changed in her one day. She found herself wanting more and more to live—to love and to hate even if she had to hate herself so long as the emotions are there it doesn’t matter. She found herself pitying her sister that has been struck with fever (an emotion) and sitting by her side typing away her emotions, somehow, she saw colours—and sometimes she would found them emerge in front of her like rainbows after rainy days. She found herself, alive. Barely standing but she felt the thread of sentiments and passion coming like a wild truck—and soon, gone again.

She found herself unable to do anything. To break the spell and let her freaking live her life. She found herself tied against the yellowing scratchy wooden tiles of her moderate room with tiny spaces available but she could still hang on—scarcely, even though the thought of everything seems to hurt her now but she’s just got to hold herself, not for her but for others. She doesn’t remember ever thinking about herself anymore she would only think about others. There’s no me there’s only me when there’s others. She would stop thinking altogether then after the overthinking strikes her with even more hurt.

She even forgot not hurting. What she’s been feeling the moment happiness was gone is solitary hurt.

February 10th_

Getting up is easy but facing others are too much. She ought to spend countless nights alone in her room reflecting the past do’s and don’ts and she found way too much media structured in her remarkable mind that she stopped thinking to avoid OT and passing all that she found herself home. Typing away what she thinks makes she thought she thinks wiser and it’s a little weird but altogether nice feeling of contentment and ease.

She no longer feels hurt with what others said and she no longer—but doesn’t mean she doesn’t care—feel the need to force herself to accept things and it just feel different and weird. She doesn’t know what God has in store for her in the future but she trusts Him the most. She stills for a very long time but it’s a moment she felt at peace. Nothing bugging her mind—just absolutely none can bother her in this moment. It’s quite relaxing and a newfound confidence bloom inside of her like a colourful spring field, washing away all the sadness to a sunny arrival of days although it’s currently nightline.

And then she thought, Yeay! But she was careful now with her thoughts. She knows the moment she become immersed in the happiness, sadness will find its way back. Thus, she just calms herself no matter how happy or sad she is and she manages to contain-herself. She doesn’t let water flow out of the glass like she would had done numerous times before. This time the water needs to be inside all the time because it portrays her emotions and the glass is its confinement, her limitations that she would forgot to set a long time ago.

Before she would always remind herself that she has got no limits, she can do everything if she just has the courage to and she was so damn stupid at that time to know what limitation is. But a friend reminds her of it a few months back in a phone conversation.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t just do this. I’ve tried so hard to do it but nothing just came out of it. I almost gave up but I’m so tired.”

“Yeah… It’s okay to feel that way because some just cannot do it because they have their own limits. You have to know your limits to do things without exaggerating.”

“Gosh. You’re right.”

Recalling the memory of sitting in a park talking to her friend she found a new piece of her that she would left accidentally somewhere along the bitter journey.